


Of Warfare & Humanities: A Sherlock Backstory

by AlixxBlack



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternature Universe, Backstory, Brotp, Gen, Johnlock - Freeform, Lestrolly, Loosely Compliant though, Mollystrade, Multi, Other, Sheriarty - Freeform, Uni!lock, Unilock, allusions to drug use, canon compliance, otp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 22:56:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 10,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12199056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlixxBlack/pseuds/AlixxBlack
Summary: As the Professor of Modern Warfare & tactics, Sherlock believes he's the perfect fit for the Department Head opening at the university. Unfortunately, the unconventional Humanities professor, Jim Moriarty, wants that position too.And the person tasked with deciding who is the best for the position? Molly Hooper.





	1. HIS250 Modern Warfare & Tactics

            Fall is the best season, as far as he’s concerned. With it comes falling leaves, dropping temperatures, and a brand new batch of students wanting to be impressed by _the_ Professor Sherlock Holmes. Most of his colleagues are rushing around to make sure they have everything prepared for their first day of classes, jitters starting to settle into their funny little minds. Being nervous is a waste of time and Sherlock doesn’t waste time.

            Instead of busying himself with needless tasks meant to make him seem “cool” and “approachable,” Sherlock prefers to stalk his students online. He learns all about them so that he can push their boundaries and get them outside of their comfort zone. The students who come into his room don’t come because it’s a pre-requisite course; the students who come into his room don’t come because of the broad course material; no, the students who come into his room come because they _think_ they have what it takes to immerse themselves in the world and craft of war and its viciously sadistic nature that has no real rules to follow. Well, except those that are self-imposed, anyway.

            Not everyone who comes in on the first day has what it takes to be successful in HIS250, Modern Warfare & Tactics.


	2. A Suggestion, Professor Jim

            John Watson welcomes students outside of the Westwood Hall, directing confused students to their classrooms. Only the hardiest of history majors end up in his conference room to work on a prestigious capstone project that catapults them into a successful career. It makes sense that _he’s_ the one teaching the capstone because the alternative would be, well, less helpful…

            “Professor Jim!” a nearby voice hoots. Smacking his gum a little less dramatically, he pivots to greet the forgotten student with open arms and a wide grin. It is one of the older students, a gal by the name Mary Morstan, who calls upon him. “You almost look like a student dressed like that, eh?”

            Jim Moriarty slides his sunglasses off of his face and lets a low crack erupt from his lips as he smacks down on a bubble in his cheek. Mary was always the sarcastic sort, poking fun at him just because they were very nearly peers. She is in John Watson’s class this year, only by the approval and request of Sherlock Holmes. “I can’t watch my enemy if I look like the rest of the staff cattle.”

            Mary was well aware of the rivalry between Jim and Sherlock. It was announced in the spring that the History Department Head was retiring after this academic year is finished. As such, both Jim and Sherlock made it clear to their colleagues that they each wanted the promotion.

            “You two should teach a class together,” Mary remarks lazily, pulling her cellphone from a pocket to check her schedule. She knows where she has to be but she’s uneasy about being the special exception to make it to John’s class. For the first time since he’s taken the position she’ll be the twenty-first student on his roster. Also, Jim thinks she fancies him a bit.

            Jim laughs at her, “Oh, I don’t think I could teach _with_ Sir Boast-a-Lot. He is too much a genius for me.” Mary is already walking away by the time he finishes his sentence. Though, she does lift her head enough to shout back at him.

            “Don’t kid yourself, Professor, you’re more alike than you think. Two sides of the same coin, I reckon, so you should just shut it and go talk to him.” The conversation lingers for a moment, but as soon as Mary asks John to show her to his classroom and disappears inside – it turns to dust.

            Teaching alongside Sherlock Holmes? Being friendly with the enemy? All of that sounds too much like a fairytale. And if this is a fairytale, then he figures his role is that of the villain - hoping to make some waves on the way to greatness.


	3. The Sibling Headache

            From the balcony of his house, Mycroft watches the campus as it bustles with weekend activity. It’s the first weekend of the school year and many have chosen not to return home. While their affection for each other is revolting to a certain degree, Mycroft has always admired the community of it all. Being a university president hadn’t been his initial ambition, but since taking the post ten years ago, Mycroft couldn’t deny loving the position very much. The politics of it make the job fresh with each passing year, requiring changes to be implemented flawlessly to set a new experience standard for the other universities to mimic in the years that follow.

            Yes, the power really suits Mycroft, he thinks.

            Just as he closes his eyes to suck in the crisp, autumn air, a phone rings behind him. His assistant hollers for him to get it himself if he wants to keep his meeting with Lady Smallwood, a board director who has a regular visitation schedule to the campus that has gone unquestioned for a very long time. The success in hiding their rendezvouses come from the coy timing of those meetings. Mycroft groans and returns to his desk to answer the call personally.

            “President Holmes speaking,” his voice rolls flatly into the receiver, sounding bored and disinterested before the caller has a chance to speak.

            “When do you plan to review the applicants for the department opening?” Who else would have been calling him on a Saturday if not his own little brother? Not a single other soul would have had a free moment to harass him about the position on such a lovely afternoon.

            Mycroft pretends to laugh, laying a false tone of joy in his voice as he replies, “I was looking right now, actually. I see that we have some internal applicants. Yours wouldn’t happen to be one of them, would it? It might look like nepotism…”

            Sherlock cuts him off. “I forgot how funny you were, Mycroft. I do think I’ve pissed myself laughing.”

            “Now, now,” Mycroft tuts, “I don’t think that’s very becoming language for a department head.”

            “And neither is sleeping with a board member.”

            The line goes dead and all Mycroft can do is rub away the forming headache throbbing behind his eyes.


	4. Molly "Neutral" Hooper

            “What do you mean you want me to conduct the interviews?” Molly gasps in shock. She wasn’t even in that department! Mycroft kept his hands tucked into his pockets as her jaw hung loosely from her face. When she finally stops shaking, Molly Hooper looks over her desk. Newspaper clippings about Sherlock’s controversial essays are piled next to review cards for Jim. Each man has something special to bring to the table. Of course, there’s one more professor aiming to fill the position.

            “You’re as impartial as I can find on the staff, as it stands….” Mycroft lets his voice fall short. A few emails and text messages ping from his jacket, which causes him to drop his chin, but he doesn’t lose focus on the conversation at hand. Molly’s lack of a reply means he has to further justify his decision. “Who would you have me pick?”

            There’s a process, of course, and Molly won’t be in charge of all of it. Her only responsibility is to narrow down the nearly one hundred applicants down to just twenty-five worthy suitors. Each of the remaining applicants will prepare a proposal and present it to Molly Hooper over a lunch meeting. After each pitch, she’ll rank the applicants and then determine the top five candidates who will be interviews vigorously by the board of directors.

            Mycroft explains the process in detail. Though her role is not obviously impactful, she dictates who gets the opportunity to fill the Department opening. It will be Molly Hooper who determines if Sherlock is truly capable of getting the promotion he wants. The less involved Mycroft is, the better. Molly will turn his little brother away if she thinks someone else can do the job better, because in some small way they are alike in that sense.

            Molly frowns but seems to accept. “Is there anyone else from the university applying? Anyone other than Sherlock and Jim?”

            “Oh, that _is_ where things get interesting, isn’t it?” Mycroft’s face contorts and twists into an expression of sincere amusement. He removes his right hand from his pocket and opens his suit jacket. A folded manila envelope emerges with his hand when he pulls it back. He drops it lazily onto her desk and gestures with his entire body for her to open it with a slight lean forward.

            Molly doesn’t have to pull the entire packet out because the letterhead at the top is immediately familiar to her. A hard gulp forces her surprise back down. Shaking her head once again, the brunette woman puts a hand over her stomach. “Does Sherlock know?”

            “It’s a secret,” Mycroft laughs heartily. Deciding that the conversation is over, he starts to walk away, but only after reminding Molly what her deadline is for this new project. “Have your picks on my desk by the end of the month, Professor Hooper. I don’t like to wait.”


	5. What a Waste

            Sherlock puts a news article on the projector and calls for a student to explain why the facts are wrong. In the first couple of weeks of class, only four people quit due to the overwhelming mental devotion required to get passing marks on the weekly assignments. This meant that he still had to juggle thirty-seven minds working too similarly, too simply, and –

            “Sherlock!” The sharp voice brings a grimace to the professor’s face. Everyone turns around in unison to see that Jim Moriarty has decided to make a stop in class. He remains standing in the doorway, crunching down on an apple to fill the quiet that follows his interruption.

            “This is hardly the place for a humanities -” Sherlock pauses briefly, and resumes with a lighter tone, “- a humanities – what? A professor, I think, is what they call you. But you don’t hold your class on campus, if memory serves me well.”

            Jim claps dramatically, dropping himself loudly down each step between the rows of seats. When reaches the ornate stage from where Sherlock teaches, Jim bows down, deeply enough to mock the superiority complex that many accuse Sherlock Holmes of suffering.

            Then he coos softly at his colleague.

            “My students are running the lesson on their own today. It’s an experiment of mine to help the students understand the hive mind. It’s not really a part of the curriculum, but it will help them with their next project,” There’s a silence that lingers in the air between the two professors. Sherlock glances out over the crowd. Part of him wishes to dismiss them early, which he’s never done since becoming an educator. The other part wants to make an example of Jim Moriarty.

            However, it seems that the decision is made for him.

            “Thought I’d pop in and see if you’re playing nice.”

            Sherlock gestures to the bored, his temper running short but his heart racing.

            “I just asked the students to explain why these facts are wrong. Perhaps you could demonstrate your assessment skills for the class?” Jim and Sherlock hold each other’s gaze for a very long, uncomfortable moment. A student in the crowd ends up cheering for Professor Jim to take a stab at the task. When everyone is supportive of he idea, he does ‘cave’ and fulfill the request.

            And with a deep breath, “Let’s first start with the fact that this article’s title misleads the reader to associate the events that transpired in the actual text during the suggested event in the heading. Neither of these events actually correlates…”

            Sherlock arches his brows while Jim Moriarty makes a spectacle of himself doing precisely what was asked of him. Unfortunately, when all is said and done, Sherlock still isn’t impressed by his rival’s performance.

            “It’s a pity you waste that intelligence teaching humanities where nobody will ever take you seriously,” Sherlock laughs, dismissing both his class and Jim.


	6. A Filler Reunion

            Molly strolls through the campus, heading off to meet with Mycroft about the twenty-five candidates she’s chosen from the applications submitted. It took quite some time to eliminate identifying information from the submissions, and even longer to really distinguish which ones surpassed the others. But with only three days left to get her picks deliver to President Holmes, Molly is happy to be closing the chapter just in time for the weekend. She rather hopes to get out and enjoy herself away from the campus for once.

            “Molly!”

            The deep voice is chipper and gruff, and absolutely familiar to her in every way. Of her colleagues, Molly has been employed longer than most of her colleagues, having attended this university to get her degree and being hired the same day she received her diploma. The only other person who has been there just as long is Gregory Lestrade.

            “Good afternoon!” Molly greets him, lifting her free arm for a quick hug. He steps into her, holding on tight for a moment longer than she expects, and then lets go to look her square on. “It’s been some time since I’ve seen you around. You’re still assigned to us, aren’t you?”

            “I’m on vacation this month, but until I decide if I’ll accept Mycroft’s job offer, I’ll absolutely be working here,” Lestrade comments, grabbing Molly’s wrist to get her walking again. They carry on side-by-side while she inquires about the job that Mycroft has for him. It turns out that the Holmes brothers are just as distrusting of one another as ever.

            Molly complains about the Holmes brothers, Mycroft treating Sherlock like a child and Sherlock calling Mycroft his arch-nemesis. As she becomes truly exasperated, she leans against Lestrade and drops her head into his shoulder. “They act like children and we trust them to enrich the lives of the next generation. Isn’t it silly?”

            Lestrade shrugs, causing Molly to lift herself again. He’s known Sherlock for years, and occasionally calls upon him when the police are having a spot of trouble solving a crime. Sherlock constantly jokes that he’ll leave his teaching job to become a consulting detective someday, since Lestrade seems to believe that he’s better suited solving crime than weeding out the weak minded students aspiring for futures they could never truly handle.

            “Sherlock is a great man,” Lestrade starts but then catches a glimpse of the stack of applications in her hand. Sherlock’s is poking out from somewhere in the middle. He can only tell because of the newspaper clipping poking out of the edge of the folder. A soft smile settles on his lips and he hands his head low. “I think that someday, if the world is really lucky, he might show us that he’s a good one, too.”

            Molly loosens up, knowing how much Lestrade cares about Sherlock Holmes. Lestrade considers him his best friend. Sometimes it seems as though he even regards him as a child. It reminds her that Gregory’s and his wife found out recently that he can’t have children. He’s been different since then. She reaches out and squeezes his hand. “I think he’ll have his moment someday.”

            Lestrade gazes up at the sky, “Suppose I’ll go for a smoke. Good luck with Mycroft, okay? You tell me if he gives you any hell, alright?” Molly agrees before racing up the stairs of a nearby building that has an office tucked away. Mycroft often retreats there to avoid conversing with Sherlock when he’s being a pest.

            Molly tightens her grip on the folders, and then makes the final steps towards handing the project back to Mycroft for a few weeks. The relief tickles the tips of her fingers.


	7. Do As Jim Does, But Better

            Sherlock sent the email yesterday cancelling his classes for the week, citing that he is investing his time in something else on campus for the time being. The students seemed receptive for the extra time to study before the mid-term test. Of course, Sherlock knew it would be the case since he loses the largest chunk of his students at the mid-term.

            However, he’s doing more getting involved with other campus activities. Sherlock decided to hack into Jim Moriarty’s email so that he can arrange an impromptu lecture on humanities. It took a fair bit of digging, despite how present Professor Jim Moriarty is online and in the school community. When he breaks through, he announces when and where he is planning on giving his lesson through the voice of Jim Moriarty to his students.

            Sherlock knows the habits of the humanities professor, though, and challenges the students to keep the lecture a secret from everyone else. Every student that takes humanities with Professor Jim Moriarty is to show up for the guest lecturer. He encourages them to bring cameras, recorders, and friends majoring in journalism. Jim Moriarty praises the event as a rare event and encourages the students to consider how news and social media can influence the power of any individual’s personal message or agenda.

            The last twenty-four hours have been a bit hectic, and tricky to navigate, but it’s noon and he’s ready to make a show of how easy it is to teach humanities. Sherlock Holmes is more than his HIS250 class that scares people away from their dream majors.

            Sherlock Holmes can be just as fun and interesting as Jim Moriarty.

            A Department head should, after all, be capable of teaching all different subjects using a variety of mediums. As soon as the crowd swarms around him, all two hundred of Jim Moriarty’s students, Sherlock reaches down by his feet where he’s left his violin case.

            “Today, I want to start by playing a song that should be familiar to most of you….” Positioning himself just right to begin playing, Sherlock winks for dramatic flare. It’s not so hard to act like Jim just to impress some students enough to say positive things about him.


	8. Time for Tea

            Sherlock and Moriarty are sitting in the cafeteria, staring daggers into one another. After hijacking his email with a single line of code, Jim returned the favor. He volleyed by creating a scavenger hunt for his students that prevented them from being in the classroom. The project forced Sherlock to leave his lecture hall and engage in a more untraditional format for his classes.

            Sherlock’s volley to those antics was to switch classes for the second half of the term. He sent his students to Humanities to learn Modern Warfare & Tactics from Jim Moriarty while Sherlock Holmes taught Humanities. All of this, naturally, being without express permission. Though, nobody corrected the men either.

            So now, just before Christmas, both men are enjoying some hot tea and biscuits over the news that they’ve been chosen to prepare proposals for the second stage of the hiring process for the Department Head of the History program.

            “Shocking, really, that you’ve been chosen,” Jim remarks, “considering that you started all this trouble between us this year.”

            “I’m not the only one accountable,” Sherlock declares, slurping his tea intentionally. Jim jerks his head to the side, clearly bothered by the sound, but he winks when Sherlock sets his glass back on the table.

            “You know, I do owe you. You failed one of my students,” the reminder is kind of hilarious to Sherlock, apparently, because he breaks out into a laugh. Jim smiles too, but less out of spite and more out of genuine amusement. For nearly three months they’ve been at each other’s throats, trying to sabotage the other from being chosen for the Department head position. And yet, both were chosen just the same.

            “Let’s not focus on your failure students and instead spend some time figuring out who Mycroft recruited to pick the candidates,” he suggests coolly. Jim makes a face, and at first it is unclear if it is meant to be sour or playful. But Sherlock doesn’t have to wait long for clarification.

            Jim pulls his tea to his lips and then twists his head to the side. “You play the role of ‘doofus’ so well. Are you sure that you’re a genius?”


	9. A Lunch Pitch (Molly's Actual Nightmare)

            Molly stares at the boys, or she supposes men since they are honestly adults. They _insisted_ on having their proposal presentations together. Mycroft refused to attend the meetings, especially if Sherlock and Jim were involved. He can’t show any preference so Molly had to make the choice.

            When she asked Lestrade, he promised she’d be fine. He also promised to buy her some wine after the pitches were done. The idea hadn’t crossed her mind as pleasing so much as relieving until she opened the first question to Sherlock and Jim. “What would you change about your colleagues proposal of changes within the department?”

            Simultaneously, Sherlock and Jim start criticizing the other’s ideas. Jim finds Sherlock’s desire to increase the number of classes taken in the fourth year during the capstone project to be preposterous. “Student’s have lives outside of school, and not everyone cares to give up their family just for a pinch and a tickle of confidence!”

            But in perfect time, Sherlock has absolutely no kind words for the concept that Jim wants to impose on the teachers, which is an optional internship to replace the capstone project for those gaining a history major or minor for something less rigorous than intensive research. Sherlock scoffs at the thought.

            “What a preposterous logic. These students aren’t coming here to become enlightened about the real world! They come here to be educated about the things they _think_ they care about! We need to make the work harder now so that when they enter the labor market they have are better equipped to handle the fluctuation of workflow _and_ find a suitable personal life. Push hard now, so they don’t fall hard later.”

            This continues on and on for several hours. Each time Molly poses a question, or presents a potential scenario, the men disagree with each other. The whole meeting is frightfully difficult until the very final question. It wasn’t on her paper, it wasn’t in Mycroft’s notes, but when she’s thoroughly fed up with the squabbling she raises both her hands – a fork with cake balancing on top of it, whipped cream falling from her mouth, and hair hanging loosing in her eyes – “Enough!”

            “Apologies,” they whisper in unison. Sherlock offers his napkin. Jim offers his drink. The server that walks by offers her some aspirin. She accepts only the latter.

            “Tell me,” she begins with a sort of choking noise as she swallows and speaks, “and I do mean tell me honestly, would you recommend each other for the position were you not in the running?” Sherlock’s brow wrinkles. Jim straightens himself with a blush in his cheeks. They had never considered a scenario in which they weren’t _both_ being considered for the position. When they remain silent she repeats the concept to them in a softer tone.

            “If I were to recommend only one of you for the interview with the board of directors, which I may,” her voice becomes stern and her eyes dart back and forth between the men. She wants them to feel intimidated by her comments. “Would you support each other? Sherlock, if I suggest Moriarty, would you be willing to write a letter of recommendation for him if requested?”

            Sherlock gazes over to Moriarty, a frown settling over his lips. They part for a moment and he wants to insult the very possibility that Jim bloody Moriarty would be considered capable enough to actually manage the role of Department head for a major he doesn’t even technically belong to, but he thinks better of it and lets a smile curl the corners of his lips upward. “I could probably manage to support him, if the bribe was right.”

            “Fair,” Jim bursts out, genuine amusement filling the air with his laughter.

            “Same question, Jim,” Molly repeats, “Would you write a letter of recommendation for Sherlock if the request would arise?”

            “I have to agree, I think I could write a convincing story of support if there was a strong motivating factor to consider,” he says slowly, taking time to really drink in the way Sherlock looks. Of course, he looks the same as usual: tousled black hair, crisp black suit, and a wicked cologne that engulfs Jim entirely as he admires his – dare he say – _worthy_ opponent.

            Molly waves her hands, “Be gone with you, then. I’ve had quite enough of your antics for one evening.”

            “Is someone walking you home, Molly,” Sherlock questions before tucking his chair away but after he turns to face the exit instead of her. There’s a delay in response, it’s due to the chewing, but she assures him that she has someone coming to pick her up and that he’s been waiting for nearly twenty-minutes. Sherlock and Jim make eye contact, surmising that it’s a sort of date, and bid their farewells swiftly.

            Initially they plan to leave separately, but Jim catches Sherlock’s arm.

            “I honestly would, even if I’d make your tenure a living hell, I would not sabotage your interview should you get one,” Jim admits. The respect is thick and sincere. It startles Sherlock and he almost blushes, but instead he hides his cough within a soft chuckle.

            And then decides he can afford to do something a bit dangerous. “I could go for something sweet. Not often I crave sweets, but I didn’t get to desert and it sounds oddly appealing tonight.”

            “Are you taking the devil on a date, Sherlock Holmes?” Jim joked.


	10. A Perfect Score For Everyone, Literally

            Mycroft looks at the final five once more and then peers down his nose at Molly and Lestrade, who have both come with her rankings of the applicants. Much to his surprise, each and every file reflected a perfect score. A gruff sigh escapes his lips and he throws the papers onto his desk.

            He uncrosses his legs and leans forward, an air of frustration apparent in his body language. And, well, his actual language. “This many perfect scores is impossible. _Literally_ impossible! Perfection is a fallacy.”

            Molly feels Lestrade next to her, tensing and stepping forward. She had been nervous about coming so she asked him to wait outside but he felt that if she was worried enough to want his comforts as a fallback, then she must have been worried enough to want him to be there during the conversation. It was an aggressive sort of move but Molly actively kept her mouth shut. Maybe she _did_ want him to be there during this conversation.

            “Perfection can come in many forms, Mycroft, and I believe that each and every single one of these applicants has the ability to bring something unique to the table,” Molly defended her rankings. When the less appealing of the Holmes brothers groaned in faux agony and wriggled his body upright, she sensed her opportunity to make her suggestion. “This is a job for the board, not a medical director! I’ve taken the liberty of sorting these applicants into five groups, taking into consideration only the similarity in their proposals. The board can interview each group together and then decide which individual from each group is the most competent applicant, or choose the most competent group and then do individual interviews. Either way, there needs to be more accountability on the board’s behalf!”

            The plan was never for her to reach the point of shouting, but she found that her volume increased regardless. Minutes seemed to melt away as she awaited a reply from Mycroft on the matter. As she became less anxious and more agitated by his silence, she started just making small talk with Lestrade.

            “I heard that you were promoted at the station,” Molly mumbled tiredly, rubbing her temples and recalling some chatter she heard in the cafeteria. She knew that he asked to be taken off campus because he was moving further away from the university. Otherwise, he’d ben very tightlipped about his personal life.

            Lestrade laughed a small bit, “I did, actually. Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade, now, which was a nice housewarming gift.”

            “And how about those divorce papers?” Molly actually choked on her saliva at the sound. “Come as a shock, does it?”

            “I’m so sorry, Greg, that’s awful. If you need anything at all…” But she was cut short.

            “Oh, I imagine he’s already gotten what he wants. Isn’t that right, _Greg_?”

            Molly gawked at him in surprise, wondering if he had anything to say in response. She expected him to blush or shake his head, but he doesn’t do either of those things. He doesn’t do nothing either, though. Further shocking the lean brunette, he shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t feel bad about it. She was cheating on me anyway. No harm to being happy to find someone else.”


	11. An Honor, Really

            Sherlock plays his violin while his students took their spring finals. Simultaneously, Jim is using a computer program to simulate an accompaniment with the piano. His students were offered places in the hall, too, to take their finals on their laptops. Were anyone to walk into the hall, they would think it a study session or a hangout rather than an actual class. This is just one of the ways, though, that Sherlock and Jim have changed for the better since –

            Dating?

            They’ve been dating, sort of. Jim and Sherlock don’t engage in any of the usual relationship ‘nonsense,’ as they call it, preferring to have intellectual conversation instead. Many times they will stay at a café sipping tea or coffee discussing the ins and outs of the British government or the current events going on around the world. They constantly disagreed, of course, what with Sherlock being more of a realist and Moriarty the passionate idealist.

            Regardless, by the time the last student submits their final for Jim and forks over their written exam to Sherlock, the pair of them are quite comfortable nudging one another or touching a shoulder as an act of comfort. Even the students could see the affection they share with one another.

            The awkward pair begin packing their belongings for the night; Jim into a duffel bag, and Sherlock into a briefcase. Just as they’re about to shut the hall down for the holiday, President Mycroft Holmes prances with his cane and assistant at his side. Not a moment of hesitation is apparent in his voice when he speaks, “Lovely, two birds with one stone.” His thin lips gnarl themselves into an irritated smile.

            “Mr. President, what an honor,” Jim sighs. “Really.” A nasally tone indicates a lack of interest in the university’s topmost administrator. It also highlights what Sherlock considers to Jim Moriarty’s best personality trait: _his seething sarcasm._

            Sherlock hums in coordination, “Pleasant indeed.”

            “I thought you’d both like to know we’ve scheduled the interviews. The board wants to announce the Department successor when the students return. The first round of interviews begins tomorrow.” Mycroft pivots, using his cane to smack the ground with emphasis before he leaves the building. Sherlock and Jim remain in their places, basically speechless. When Jim finally leans forward enough to pull his boyfriend’s (well, kind of boyfriend) gaze from the floor, he says something only he would say with an encouraging tone.

            “It’s time to solve our problem,” Moriarty begins, “the final problem between us. Who _really_ deserves that promotion? Is it you Sherlock Holmes?”

            And for a second, Sherlock genuinely doesn’t know.

            Not because he isn’t worthy – because he’s not sure he wants it – not sure he wants to withhold it from someone who has helped make him a better Professor…

            Not sure?

            What an ordinary feeling for Sherlock Holmes.


	12. Observing the Decision

            Molly is sitting in on the interviews, mandatorily at the request of the board. They unanimously agreed that her idea for the group interviews allowed for them to best determine which ideals, or which individuals, were the best candidates for the position. The first group was full of beginners, people who had minimal experience but showed an aptitude for the goings-on of a college campus. The board liked one person, someone Lestrade knew from the Yard – one Philip Anderson? He seemed capable enough, but Lestrade insists that Anderson _hates_ Sherlock Holmes.

            Who, by the way, was in the group of interviewees coming in as the first group left. As for group two, this was made of the eccentrics who were devout to a rigorous study that made the program comparable to the best offered in the entire continent. Molly was taken aback when there were four other people who shared Sherlock’s harsh ideals for a stricter program. However, she thought about how much his friendship – maybe even relationship? – with Jim Moriarty had changed him as a teacher. He almost didn’t belong in that group anymore; he was nearly unrecognizable in the classroom these days.

            Group three came in afterwards, and this is the group that had Jim Moriarty. These were the romantic thinkers; the creative minds that sought a renaissance for the field of education. They wanted to _make_ history while _teaching_ history. Their idealistic methods were practical in many ways, and this group seemed to impress the board most. A dark feeling fogs her vision. What if Sherlock _doesn’t_ get the promotion?

            It was never that she was partial or impartial, truthfully. Molly Hooper will always have a crush on the brilliant professor. A part of her heart was thinking that inevitably Sherlock would get the position. There really isn’t anyone as qualified, willing, and capable as him? That’s what she’s been thinking and believing this whole time. But seeing the board smiling when Jim was practically singing and dancing each of his answers? A skipped heartbeat puts doubt into her mind.

            How will the school change if Moriarty has a say over the way students learn?

            Molly barely listens to the fourth group consisting of university employees from competing schools who are looking for tenure with a prestigious school known for respecting it’s employees. Many of them are older and vastly experienced. Many of the board members joke and jest with individuals who have been their peers for quite some time. The interview never properly takes place, Molly doesn’t think, but it doesn’t properly end either. “Other engagements,” some of them mumble in reference to evening dinners with other well-known members of the universities from which they came.

            The last group is the one that Molly has been waiting for the most. Professor John Watson was shuffled into this group. He wasn’t like any of the other groups so much that he belonged there instead, and so he came with four other individuals who didn’t fit the mold nor broke it. John Watson, an army doctor previously stationed in Iraq, wanted to revamp some of the policies and broaden the prospects of the department but neither compromised the positive reputation that the History program has had for many years.

            Molly watches him closely, wondering if Moriarty and Sherlock ever figured out that he was applying. He speaks so happily about his position teaching the capstone project. In order to remain a full-time employee, Professor Watson is also responsible for the students who are studying abroad and working on internships within the program.

            And, much to her surprise, his ordinary approach really enamored the board of directors. He spoke highly of the university but still criticized various different limitations and restrictions placed on the staff members. Compliments were handed out to his competitors, including Jim and Sherlock specifically. As distant as she sometimes came off as around the campus, he showed how genuinely personable and social he is capable of being when the need arises. When the interviewees leave, the directors announce that there’s little more deliberation that is needed.

            “Yes, I think we know who we’re choosing,” a slender, wrinkly woman shares as she lifts herself to her feet. A smile settles over her lips and she gestures to Mycroft Holmes. “You’re welcome are welcome to my home for drinks this evening to celebrate our decision.”

            Then she looks around the room, to clarify that it isn’t just Mycroft that she’s inviting, “All of you.” Of course, Molly suspects that Mycroft is the only one she cares to have show up.


	13. What A Waste

            “I could really use your help,” Jim Moriarty whines in a playful way. Sherlock has been spending his days in his boyfriend’s flat since quitting his job at the university. The Department Head position didn’t go to either of them, and instead was nabbed by Professor John Watson, a war hero who fit the predictable image of the university. To a degree, Sherlock had obviously been bitter, but there was more to life than a _boring_ university job. He tosses the small crossbow in his hand and then fires an arrow at a target of his brother’s face hanging on the wall.

            As for Moriarty, he’s been meddling in matters of a generally secret nature, but Sherlock is no fool. Sudden increases of untraceable crimes are being committed through all of London. Detective Inspector Lestrade, a friend of Molly Hooper’s that is ‘babysitting’ him to see that he’s out of trouble, keeps calling upon Sherlock to make a guest appearance on their cases. He offers to pay and to give him credit, but there’s no need to occupy his time with men masquerading as heroes as if they have no vices to speak of…

            Sherlock grunts in reply and stands, “I don’t have any desire to know what you do in the shadows.”

            “My hands are never dirty,” Jim declares, “and you would be a great addition to the team.” Minutes seem to pass before either of them makes eye contact. Their relationship is unique. Sherlock and Jim don’t generally engage one another physically, though they have their weaknesses at times. No, their relationship is built on the dynamic of equality and balance. They compliment each other well, and they can discuss highly intellectual topics without having to worry the other cannot keep up. The dynamic thus far has been sufficient.

            Until, all at once, it’s not. Moriarty scolds Sherlock, “You’re wasting your talents.”

            Sherlock grabs his coat and scarf from the stand near the door. He leaves without saying anything else, at least not to Moriarty. Once he’s on the street and hailing a cab, he pulls his phone out and deletes a contact quickly. Before he climbs into the vehicle he glances back up at the window. “So are you, Moriarty. So are you.”


	14. Back to the Office

            Mycroft sits next to his assistant and sighs, “I guess we can leave the university. Jim Moriarty has moved on to new prospects. The Queen doesn’t require our services in the field any further.”

            Athena barely lifts her gaze from the phone but nods her head curtly. Though she does quietly respond to his comment, “I would like to return to the office.” Mycroft reaches for his teacup, hovers his hand next to it, and then whips it up to his lips. Neither of them say anything for a few moments, and then Athena lays her phone in her lap abruptly.

            “I’ve scheduled your announcement for Friday, sir,” she speaks flatly.

            “We’ll need to find Sherlock. I think he’s using again,” Mycroft sputters grumpily. She laughs loudly at the comment.

            “Of course he is, Mr. Holmes, he doesn’t have anything to do!”

            “I know, we’ll have to find him someone to live with and see if Mrs. Hudson still has a flat for him,” Mycroft decides.

            “Straight away, sir,” Athena remarks as she grabs her phone and tea, leaving the room promptly. Once she is gone, Mycroft Holmes relaxes a bit. Doing work in the field is difficult only because of the _people_. The sooner he can surround himself with the likeminded people that chose politics over relationships – the better.


	15. Flat for Two

            “You’re looking for a roommate, aren’t you,” Molly jokes nervously. Sherlock wants to get a flat, from what Lestrade suggests, but refuses to live somewhere alone. Molly thinks that maybe Mycroft won’t let him live alone, either, considering the consequences of his relationship with Moriarty. When Sherlock went off on his own it nearly cost him his life, and something tells Molly that he’s far too important to be lost. Not just to her, but to everyone.

            John shrugs his shoulders, “I’ve been thinking about heading back to London, yeah, but I need a job first. My military pay is well enough for now, but I think being employed would go a long way for making me more appealing.”

            Sherlock stepped up to the table and cocked his head to the side. Molly means to speak but he gets to the punch first. “She meant I was looking, actually,” his voice is cool and collected. Still, there’s a twitch in his finger that implies he is nervous. Her first assumption is that it is because he’s eager to know why John Watson abandoned his post at the university. Then she assumes it’s because he’s from his past, the one he’s done so many drugs to forget.

            “Funny little world, isn’t it,” John mumbles with a crooked grin. Shifting in place, it becomes clear he isn’t sure what to make of Sherlock’s constant staring. Molly coughs hard. The hope is that it will disrupt the awkwardness looming over the room.

            Sherlock then goes on a tangent. He breaks down John Watson’s life. The proclamation is that he researched the soldier when he beat out twenty-four other viable candidates for a job that he gave up on a whim. After insulting him, he criticizes John’s mental state and physical being. The whole scene is nauseating and finally Molly swats at Sherlock’s ankle with her foot.

            “Apologies,” he spits out, “as I didn’t mean to push you away.”

            “Strange way of showing that, Mr. Holmes,” John laughs.

            It’s a genuine laugh, too.

            “221B Baker Street.”

            Molly chokes on her own spit. As she leans forward, she assesses each man’s expressions. Sherlock’s is smooth and intrigued, something he rarely shows at a mundane exchange. John’s, on the other hand, looks more irritated and offended. She is sure that he’ll refuse.

            “Are you suggesting we share a flat?” John asks with squinting eyes.

            And with a laugh, “No, I’m telling you where we live.”

            And it bloody works, she thinks, because John Watson leaves with a glint in his eye that certainly hadn’t been there when he first arrived.


	16. Talking with the Watcher

            Mrs. Hudson never tells Sherlock, but a man often comes and sits across the street when he’s gone. He stares at the window listening to music. Sometimes he comes inside, and she hears violin music that’s very familiar. But she thought Sherlock composed those pieces? She swears that he wrote those songs and that she’s seen the sheet music lying all around his flat.

            One day he comes in and sits on the stairs. Sherlock and John are gone for a few days. John off to visit Harry and Sherlock doing who-knows-what (drugs) who-knows-where (probably not far from home because he never strays far)… So she approaches him and offers him tea.

            But he turns it down, “I won’t stay long,” he drawls.

            Mrs. Hudson tries to insist. She gestures down the hallway. “It’s really no trouble. I’ve no idea when those boys come and go so I have plenty just in case. Besides, clients and such. They’re not very homely, are they?”

            “I just miss him,” the man frowns, clearly exaggerating his emotions. Something manic flashes in his eyes that makes Mrs. Hudson uncomfortable. Mrs. Hudson couldn’t tell which man he might’ve meant. But he stands to straighten his suit and his mannerisms match Sherlock’s when he’s trying to act disinterested. But that man, that ‘consulting detective’ in her second floor flat, he’s _emotional._

            And then he tilts his head to her, “Do you think he misses me?”

            Mrs. Hudson shrugs, whispering her reply as the man leaves. “We never know, do we? Not really.”


	17. Moving Again

            John calls upon his ex-girlfriend and past student, Mary Morstan, when Sherlock dies. He needs a job – he needs somewhere to go – and he trusts her. He trusts her to know where he should go because she always could read him. Nobody could see through his mask easier, other than Sherlock, and so he needed that consistency when his friend died.

            And she sets him up with a job, a place where she’s a nurse now. He hadn’t expected her to go in that direction, but he knew she had been minoring in medicine during her run at the university. Much of her work was centered on health, too, so it shouldn’t have been as big of a surprise as it was for him.

            They reconnect easily enough in the weeks they share, her partnering with him to make sure he fits in perfectly, and him taking her out for appreciation dinners. Eventually, things just work that way. Wordlessly they make plans to be together after work; they take their lunches together; and sometimes he goes home with her because they’re sick of take out.

            One night John sits down next to her on the couch, and she’s reading some science magazine with a furrowed brow and steaming cup of tea, proper tea. And he looks at her, “I’m moving in,” he decides. Mary stiffens comically in front of him, then turns her body to face him in a soft manner.

            “Oh, is that so,” she questions. Both of them bubble out a crazy laugh, and then it becomes serious, “I had thought you already did.” She makes a face, the sort that indicates she’s learned something mind blowing and new. John leans in for a kiss but she clicks her tongue. Mary stands, waving her magazine in his face.

            “It’s my reading time, Doctor!” Then she follows up, “Maybe you should consider returning to the flat for the last of your belongings. Let me know when you’re ready to go.”


	18. A "Lost" Letter

            The ramifications of faking his death weren’t unknown to him at the time, but in the event that his brother was correct about just picking up where he left off with the army doctor turned professor turned family physician… Sherlock wanted to be ready for the possibility that Mycroft was right…

            In one breath he reads the letter out loud to himself, trying to explain the reason for his disappearance. John Watson meant the world to Sherlock Holmes, when their paths crossed the second time, and in many ways it felt so very similar to what he felt for Jim Moriarty. Didn’t he owe something to the man who was more than a flat mate and partner?

 

            _Dear John,_

_I’m painfully unaware of most things when it comes to emotions, a practice I’ve had to master in the many years preceding these last two. Wandering in the field, in shadows and darkness – undercover at the demand of my elder sibling, it makes one see what they might miss more clearly. I miss you, John._

_Jim Moriarty was more than a rival during my time at the university. He became a friend, a companion, and before long – he was much my romantic partner as I could manage. I am a machine, after all, aren’t I? I did love him in my own way. Losing him to the crimes that I had worked to prevent was more than heartbreaking: it was an insult._

_And now, I’ve betrayed you in the same way._

_Whatever life you are choosing over the one we used to share, I’m sure it is worth your time. This letter is ironic in the way that it’s not me ending our friendship. You’ve told me your piece and I just want one final good-bye, a proper one. It seems fair since I heard your last request of me in the graveyard._

_‘Don’t be dead,’ you sputtered through gritted teeth the way you do when you feel you’ve lost control. Here I am – as alive you asked – but lonelier than I’ve ever known. Of course, I didn’t have to see you suffer every single day. It isn’t fair to expect you to pick up as if nothing has changed._

_I lied to you._

_You owe me absolutely nothing._

_If anything…_

_I – owe – you._

_Thank you, John Watson, for the time that we shared. It is my most valuable possession. What a fine one, too, as nobody can take it from me._

_My best wishes to you,_

_Sherlock Holmes_

            “What a fool you are,” the detective remarks to himself in a nearby mirror when he glances into it. These words may be his but they feel foreign. After all the hell that Moriarty razed in London, how dare he feel any emotions? Sherlock crumbles the sheet of paper in his hand and throws it into the waste bin. Bouncing with each step, the man decides loudly, “Take me or leave me. What do I care?”

            Though he knows he cares very much – he knows how to make that disappear: a pinch, a needle, and a breath.


	19. And Yet...

            Panic strangles his veins. His hands are on his head, his breathing is ragged, and the man standing next to him is a murderer. This man that he swears he’s known his whole life – how can they not with the way their lives just fit together so easily? And yet, in that moment he is a perfect stranger.

            It should’ve been him. John Watson should have killed Magnussen. Sherlock Holmes is a great many things: talented violinist, terrible astronomer, absolute prick most of the time, a damn good consulting detective…

            But he was no murderer.

            And yet, in that moment he was.

            Though he is breathing air, it feels like water in his chest, and it leaves John shaking and wobbling. He wants to grab Sherlock and run away. The instinct isn’t to keep him still, it isn’t to keep him in the custody of men and women who can help him with his inevitable criminal trial, and it isn’t to back away. Instead of those totally respectable instincts – John Watson wants to stow away to a foreign country and hide Sherlock away from the British government.

            And yet, he stands still. John Watson – a seasoned army doctor and soldier – stands perfectly still. He is the hostage.

            There is no audible gasp for air but John knows he is heaving where he stands. What will happen if he loses his best friend again? The first time nearly broke him, and rekindling his romance with Mary Morstan was brilliant in keeping him healthy, but losing him this way? Losing him because he couldn’t save his wife himself? Every single day with Mary will be a reminder of what he couldn’t do to save either of them…

            It’s on the top of his tongue, Sherlock’s name, and he wants to say it. No matter if it is a breathy whisper, no matter if it is a scream, no matter if it’s unintelligible! John just wants Sherlock to know he’s not alone.

            And yet he remains silent.

            Sherlock turns just slight to him and he speaks, but John hasn’t a clue what he’s saying. He’s talking. He’s breathing. Sherlock is alive – but his future died the moment Magnussen’s corpse the ground. No, it died the moment he fired the gun.

            _No,_ he thinks, _it ended the moment Mary got involved._

            Sherlock would never turn a case if it mattered. And because John loved her, Mary mattered. Because Sherlock loved John, and he knew the man did, _her case mattered_.

            And yet losing Sherlock mattered more…


	20. Did You Miss Me?

            White noise would’ve sounded better than the video. The same phrase, repeating in a harrowing tone that mocks the listener? Yes, the crackling of static would have been an improvement. What would the consequences be of Jim Moriarty’s return? How many lives would he end and alter just on a whim? The nausea that resulted from having to see the film dozens of times while reviewing the autopsy documentation for his corpse offered Molly Hooper no escape from him.

            _“You’re absolutely certain he didn’t send a double,”_ they had pestered. Molly had been absolutely sure and when she was able to flawlessly forge the documents pertaining to Sherlock’s death, she felt it an insult to be questioned so ruthlessly about something she knew was true.

            Jim Moriarty was dead.

            The lackeys sent by the government’s most obscure and hidden branches left hours ago, and she is still seething as if they are still examining her abilities under a microscope. She slams things down and grumbles unintelligible nonsense about them. Just as her upset reaches a peak, “What foul ants following a lead manufactured to excuse their own failures,” when Mycroft saunters in the door with a grim look on his face.

            “Oh, have you come to get your hands dirty, Mycroft Holmes, or have you come to tell me I’m a sod pathologist too!” she shouts in a shaky voice. Though his eyebrows have a startling arch to them naturally, they do shoot up in surprise as her criticisms. Usually the meek woman would apologize but she holds strong. It takes a few seconds before Mycroft gets his bearings.

            When he does, his voice is low, “I know that Moriarty is dead, Miss Hooper.”

            “Oh, so you’ve come to tell me he left this video behind to start panic?”

            No answer needs to follow because Molly knows the instant she says it that she’s right. If she was not mistaken in her autopsy, and she certainly wasn’t, then this has to be some sort of after shock of Jim Moriarty’s criminal existence. She fears what might come next if this video broadcast was just the beginning.

            The nightmare was just beginning, she feared.


	21. Relief in the Worst Way

            Using didn’t feel so wrong when everyone around him was coupled off, did it? John had Mary. Molly had Greg. Even Mycroft had that Smallwood woman. Anderson always had something in Donovan, though Sherlock never properly understood the dynamic. Mrs. Hudson had her slew of flirts, noncommittal in every way but never truly alone.

            Sherlock had blown his chances with Janine during the Magnussen incident.

            Sherlock had also blown his chances with Irene, though they still flirted through texts sometimes. He even met up with her if she was in the area – but it was too much like being with Moriarty again. There was no future to be had with her.

            He knew what he wanted it and it wasn’t his to take.

            Nothing feels more nature than his loneliness and the squeezing of a rubber band around his bicep. Sherlock breathes, exhales, breathes; and then when he feels the drugs fill his body – he relaxes. Even if only for a moment…


	22. Ripples Against Him

            When Mary dies, the damage is catastrophic.

            Every life has a ripple effect, and that’s the most important thing that Gregory Lestrade has learned in his time at the Yard. No matter who dies, whether they have a name or not, there’s a ripple in the pond. Someone feels the impact of their death somehow, somewhere.

            He pops a cigarette to his lips and just watches 221B Baker Street from a bench down below. Mrs. Hudson says that Jim Moriarty used to sit there before he his escapades became international news. That bloody bastard would just watch his ex-boyfriend as he lived his new life, waiting for a way to destroy it. Despite the events that transpired causing Mary’s untimely death not directly relating to Moriarty’s actions, was he not in some way the cause for it?

            Sherlock is as high as ever, and when he makes it back to his flat on the rare occasion that he does, Mrs. Hudson is uncomfortable with him being there without supervision. So Lestrade stays watching him off the clock, just to be sure that he doesn’t hurt anyone because he’s in too much pain to see the damage.

            John is miserable and fills a room with his misery simply from walking into it. Though he carries on as if there’s been no change, Molly comes home in tears about the state of him. He kisses his daughter but his eyes are dead and empty. They play on the floor together sometimes when she stays over late and his voice is flat and emotionless. John is close to Rosie but he is a shell of a man tending to her. Mary exists in her. It pains him. It breaks him again every single day.

            He blames Sherlock. Everyone knows he does, even if he doesn’t want to say it aloud. Because it was Sherlock’s life that needed saving it is he who caused Mary to die. That’s how John categorizes it. After all he’s been through, he decided somewhere along the way that all matters are either black or white. Gray areas simply don’t exist to him. Not these days…

            As for Molly, she’s affected because she cares for both of them. There was a time when she cared about him so deeply that it might’ve been love, though she refuses to say such a thing. Sherlock is important to her as a person so his pain is hers. John and Molly have been raising Rosie for months together, not as a couple but as friends, and the closeness that she had just from working with him in the past was enhanced. As the godmother of his daughter, Molly is linked for John for life. So the longer he suffers, the harder it is for her to smile each day at the thought of him.

            Greg puffs, playing around with his smoke, and then drops it to the ground.

            “And what about you, Lestrade, how are you holding up,” he asks himself.

            But that never mattered. It never does because he’s just a witness to the madness.


	23. Returning Your Call, Sort Of

            Molly doesn’t know where John is, and she’s in the kitchen chopping away at vegetables trying to calm her nerves. It isn’t often that he asks someone else before he asks her to watch Rosie. She must be with a neighbor or the nanny. She should’ve thought it considerate, what with her engagement to Greg and all, letting her have a weekend away from Rosie. They split their time so evenly and in such a way that the parenting never truly stops.

            But she can’t shake a very negative feeling.

            Greg is also on edge. He’s heard that Mycroft is working in the field and nobody can get ahold of John or Sherlock. In fact, none of them are reachable by cellphone. It’s crazy to think that they’re not in danger but without knowing where they’ve gone or why, there’s no way to help them either. Neither John nor Sherlock even mentioned a case.

            So naturally they’ve been getting underneath each other’s skin about different things. _Why don’t you do your own laundry for a change? Why don’t you take a few nights off? Could you stop smoking in the house? Will you consider applying for that promotion?_ Nothing that could end a relationship, not by a long shot, but enough to make some have a bad day…

            When he phone rings, and she sees that it’s Sherlock, she’s angry. Why would he call now? He didn’t answer the last twenty or so calls she made to him so why even bother taking his ring in? Molly ignores it.

            Almost immediately, he calls back.

            Lestrade comes into the kitchen, “Oi, who’s calling?”

            Molly rolls her eyes. A sigh layering over her words, “Sherlock bloody Holmes. After all those calls…”

            “Answer it, yeah?” Greg gasps, gesturing for her to pick up the phone. More than even herself, the Detective Inspector is devout to his Consulting Detective. He trusts Sherlock as much as Molly, but won’t stand against him out of blind loyalty. He’s not wrong to do so – but even Sherlock Holmes needs humbled from time to time.

            She rolls her eyes again and answers just before it would have otherwise kicked over to her voicemail. A grunt escapes her lips before she speaks, but only barely.

            “Sherlock.”


	24. A Familiar Feelings

            Molly goes from irritated to ashamed quickly. The horror in her eyes spreads faster than spilled milk. Something in her shatters as she pulls the phone away from her face. From what he can hear, Greg thinks that perhaps Sherlock is mocking her and trying to use her to solve a case – though he’s probably been able to solve it without her. He trusts her in a way he could never trust other people. Greg sees it.

            There’s nothing about it that makes him jealous.

            “Because it’s true,” Molly says, “It was true once.”

            All he can do is listen and wait but he doesn’t expect anything good. Molly is in tears now. He wants to go to her and comfort her and tell Sherlock to sod off, but he can’t. Something keeps him glued in his spot, and he’s glad for it.

            Because comes from Molly’s lips next is excruciatingly difficult to hear, even if he suspected it all along…

            “I love you, Sherlock,” Molly barely whispers. Immediately she sobs, and corrects herself, “I loved you a long time ago…”

            Her voice trails off, almost as if she feels she missed her train stop. Greg hangs his head low. Maybe they’d had a bad day, but for her to just say that? To just admit it because he asked? It feels wrong in his head, in his bones, and in his heart. This feeling is familiar, though, because he had just before the divorce. Greg snatched his keys from the coffee table and left, leaving his personal phone behind.


	25. Changing Tides

            Sherlock watches his parents scold Mycroft with his mind empty. The world that he thought he had all figured out was in shambles around him. Mycroft, the epitome if emotional disregard and detachment, admitting he acted in such a way to preserve the emotional wellbeing of his family. His parents, always having regarded Mycroft as the smarter of the two boys, criticizing his judgment and pointing to Sherlock as the example of what should have been done…

            John widowed and a war veteran with a child…

            Molly and Greg, who knows? Possibly separated after the phone call Euros forced him to make…

            His one sibling doubling…

            The life he knew was gone – not even a particle in the dust of the ruble remaining…

            He doesn’t know when or if the rant ends but at some point he steps into the hallway to breathe. Lessons come in all shapes and sizes. The moral of this case, Sherlock supposes, is that for all the damage and destruction that comes from emotions – it can be a weapon too. It can be a true strength.

            But how to use? Sherlock glances over his shoulder back the room where his family sits. They discuss how to deal with Euros properly. There were many more deaths that resulted from her actions, from his brother’s actions; what _could_ be done with her? Mycroft would have to pull every last string and favor he has in his arsenal. He would not longer be the man with everyone at his disposal.

            Or maybe he would, but surely he wouldn’t be trusted forever.

            Mycroft’s luck was running out.

            And Sherlock’s, perhaps, was just beginning.


	26. Thank You

            The place that John shared with Mary was nicer, she thought, but there’s something about 221B Baker Street that is so respectably John and Sherlock. If they were committed to raising Rosie together then they needed to be somewhere that they wouldn’t have to pretend. John, whether he’s gay or bisexual or neither, loves Sherlock Holmes. The only place he’s never had to lie about who he was or pretend to be someone he simply wasn’t.

            Mrs. Hudson didn’t discount the love that he had for Mary. She made him a better and stronger man. Their love was a necessary one. Without her around, admittedly, things are somber. Every time Rosie smiles, the entire room is reminded for what a joy it was to have Mary around. She was the perfect blend of Sherlock’s brilliant mind and John’s carefree humor. The four of them would have been quite the family, but just the same – Mrs. Hudson thinks they’ll be fabulous anyway.

            John comes in tow with Rosie in a stroller and Sherlock not far behind carrying a stack of mail and few grocery bags in either hand. The way they move reminds her of the couples in the streets of London. If she says anything it’ll make a scene, surely, so she just tucks her chin into her chest.

            “Will you set the kettle, Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock asks in a commanding tone.

            Normally she’d tell him that she’s not his housekeeper, but that would be a lie. He lifts his gaze from his hands long enough to take inventory of the people in the lobby. John, check. Rosie, check. Mrs. Hudson, check. “I’ll be up when it’s done, dear.”

            “Thank you,” he calls. A tear forms in Mrs. Hudson’s eyes. They’re her family. Maybe it’s not conventional, maybe it’s not traditional, but she lived enough life to know that love mattered more than anything else. It doesn’t matter what the packaging looks like, does it? She just considers herself lucky to have them at all.

            “No,” Mrs. Hudson replies into the air of her empty kitchen, _“Thank you.”_


End file.
